The Rough Road to the Stars
by Capella A. Morningside
Summary: [Retitled. Sequel to “Hinc Illae Lacrimae”. Slight shounenai.] After the tragic events at Fort Dragonia, there were those left behind, with no comfort but the chill of empty words and winds. This is their story.
1. Alecto : The Unrelenting

**The Rough Road to the Stars  
**

_by Capella A. Morningside_

**Summary: **Sequel to "Hinc Illae Lacrimae". Slight shounen-ai. After the tragic events at Fort Dragonia, there were those left behind, with no comfort but the chill of empty words and winds. This is their story. Incomplete.

**Author's Note: **Something just wouldn't let me leave "Hinc Illae Lacrimae : Hence These Tears" as it was, with no true closure. So I present to you: "Fear of Empty Places", the wake of Glenn's death, the effect on those he left behind, and Serge's struggle with guilt. I'm guessing this will be about three parts in length.

* * *

"What in Dragoon's name happened here?" inquired Karsh. The lavender-haired Deva pushed the heavy iron doors further apart, marveling at the mess of broken stone that lay before them. 

Marcy was the first to step inside, followed within a moment by Zoah, but for a reason he couldn't quite place, Karsh was hesitant. Something tugged at his mind, a nagging feeling that wouldn't leave him; it'd been there since the Devas first set foot in Fort Dragonia that evening. The boisterous sounds and explosions they had heard on their way up the elevator hinted at nothing less than catastrophe, and that's exactly what he'd expected to find.

"YOU!" came a yell from Zoah, and the axeman rushed to catch up to his companions. Levitating before them was the boy he'd come to call 'junior', the supposed ghost that he'd been sent after a couple of weeks before, none other than the one he'd fought also that very afternoon and shamefully lost to. Yet, before anyone could say anything more, he vanished, along with the collapsed form of the weird little blonde girl he was often seen with. The three were left alone in the barely-lit room, the only light peeking out from underneath piles of rubble on the glowing floor.

"Like, what's going on here?" asked Marcy, her voice sounding out from the vague direction of her silhouette somewhere across the room from Karsh. "There's something sticky all over the floor here, and..."

Silence, save the sounds of rubble being displaced by the steps of whom Karsh guessed to be Zoah. "AND WHAT, MARCY?" The iron giant asked, pausing in his search of the rubble.

A simple answer. "I found... Glenn."

By this point, the dragoons' eyes were much more adjusted to the lack of light, and Karsh only stumbled twice on his path towards where the nine-year-old stood. She was right, the 'sticky stuff' coated the ground; from the dark shade and scent he knew it was blood. His mind was in a panic, the usually minimally religious man's thoughts pleading to any god that would listen for his friend's life. Without the usual hesitation that came with the inevitability of staining his white clothes, he fell to his knees, blood around him splashing in the wake. Straining his eyes, Karsh struggled to gain more vision in the dim light.

Marcy's voice came softly from the darkness behind him. "Karsh? Is he, like, okay?"

Cautiously, Karsh extended a gloved hand towards their fallen friend, to whom they'd just declared their enmity for just hours before, and took a gentle hold on Glenn's wrist. All the begging to the higher powers had done him no good. No matter how hard he wished to feel the steady rhythm of life flowing through those veins, nothing came, nothing save the cold quality of a corpse and heavy silence. The dragoon was almost surprised to hear his own voice as it deadpanned the words; "He's dead."

* * *

_I bet they all wonder why they never hear my voice. But they don't treat it with concern, they don't regard it as one of their many problems. It's more like a wonder to them, a question they can all ponder over the campfire or while lounging at the inn to simply give them all something common to discuss, this ragtag group of people I've been picking up like curiosities for the last few weeks. I'm fairly sure if I wasn't quiet, a diverse bunch like Sprigg, Norris, Harle, Van and Irenes wouldn't have anything else to talk about. _

_I didn't ask a single one of them to follow me around. Sprigg and Harle helped me get back to reality, but still won't leave. Irenes, the mermaid, made me a pawn in her quest to restore Marbule, Norris the Porre commander is just curious, and the painter kid Van is looking for a way to pay his rent. None of them have anything alike, not in looks, not in personality, not in interests. All they have in common is me... this awkward, towering cat-man that doesn't speak._

_Harle is the most irritating, because she knows exactly why but chooses to make silly speculations with the others whilst continuing to call me by the name that is not my own. Perhaps it's all part of her surreal style of thinking, and she never wavers under my accusing stares. She knows it all, she knows everything that happened that night, but... perhaps I should thank her for not revealing to the others just yet that I'm a murderer._

_And I know what she would say, should I confront her: "But of course. You are Monsieur Lynx. Monsieur Lynx haz killed très many people. Un more is but a minuscule acomplissement." All in that nerve-wracking, strange accent, and that permanent smile on her painted face._

_I guess you could say time and guilt have made me bitter, and, of course, quiet. I was never talkative to begin with, and nor could I be now if I wanted to, since my knowledge of these demihuman vocal cords is still agonizingly small. I simply rely on the others to speak for me, which they do, the ever-sarcastic Van always has something to say anyway._

_The first moment I had alone when I got back to my home world, I cried all night on Opassa Beach. I wept and wept, the sound of my inhuman wailings and howlings only making my sorrow more complete. Even by then, only a couple hours since my return to reality, I hadn't properly cleaned Glenn's blood from my silver swallow._

_I relived that moment a thousand times the night I cried, seeing over and over again the accidental blow that had sliced through his body... the blood on the ground making that particular area glow a surreal red. And for at least an hour I wanted to share his fate, and contemplated it seriously. With the swallow against my own throat, I remembered the sound it had made when it had stabbed Glenn in this same place. I touched the dried élan vital that the weapon retained and foresaw mixing my blood with his..._

_But then I'd remember it wasn't _my_ blood, and lower the swallow to the ground. What kind of travesty would I have committed then, mixing the blood of a loved one with that of this monster, this demon? Should I take my own life... I will only do it when I have regained my true self._

_If it means anything, I haven't shed a tear since that night._

_I feel a lot of bitterness now. Perhaps it's partially because now, according to Harle, I have become Lynx. I think back to the people I knew then, and even the people I know now, and somewhere inside me I conceive that I hate them all to a certain degree._

_But not Glenn. Never Glenn. Speak no ill of the dead._

_I hate Kid, for her complete lack of concern that night atop the fort. There was Glenn, impaled on a scythe right before her eyes, and all she could be concerned about was her vow and her vengeance. I knew it would have been different if it were, say, me, but Glenn and all the others were just third wheels to her, a disposable group. Don't worry if we lose one, we've got plenty of others, right, Serge? _

_Or she saw him as competition, on many levels. She was the type that demanded your constant attention, and if you didn't give it to her, she'd 'kick your arse so hard you'd kiss the moons'. _

_I found it much easier to talk to Glenn than to Kid, and he was always willing to listen or to share stories of our less intelligent exploits for a laugh or two. He'd been very interested in my weapon, calling it 'unconventional' and pestering me playfully until I taught him the basics of how to use it. Kid, however, wasn't like that at all. She took everything seriously, and her pessimism was even too much for me to handle. To her, nothing in the world was pure or true. Kid would say love didn't exist, and by the time she said that I did quite beg to differ. And somewhere in her mind, she'd made this deep, 'fated' connection between the two of us that I don't believe was there. Or if it was, I didn't feel it. Unbelievably cynical, bleak outlook on everything, constantly distrustful, Kid just wasn't the type I could easily tolerate being around for very long. Because... she was right, in the end. It all fell apart. I'm sure the first thing she'd tell me, if we were to see each other again, would be: "Told ya, mate."_

_If you haven't guessed it by now, yes, I had feelings for Glenn. Not the type that a teenage boy should be having for another male, of course. I didn't say anything, it became my dark secret, the only other soul I was sure was aware was Lynx, by now. When he forced the switch through the Dragon Tear, our minds crossed each other and, if only for a split second, they were one. We have no secrets from each other now. The one thing I wouldn't tell was in his possession, and I think it amuses him still._

_From the moment I first realized my emotions for that knight, it was as if my entire twelve years of being Leena's unofficial fiancée were suddenly buried deeper than Lavos himself. Maybe I deserve to be hated too, not only for being able to throw away such a promised relationship so easily, but for being a 'fairy-boy', as I'd heard the other village boys putting it. I would rehearse my confession sometimes, I did plan indeed to one day tell Glenn how I felt, but preferably just before I was going away somewhere for a very, very long time. I only prayed that until that day came, he wouldn't guess it out of me._

_Perhaps I'm thankful that Lynx wouldn't be able to accomplish anything with revealing that one anymore, now that the one in question is... is-s..._

_Is dead. Glenn is dead. There, I said it._

_I just wish I could accept it._


	2. Tisiphone : The Avenging

**The Rough Road to the Stars**

_by Capella A. Morningside_

**Summary: **Re-titled. Sequel to "Hinc Illae Lacrimae". Slight shounen-ai. After the tragic events at Fort Dragonia, there were those left behind, with no comfort but the chill of empty words and winds. This is their story. Incomplete.

**Author's Note: **Hello, and welcome to part two of the most-likely three-part drama, "The Rough Road to the Stars", previously titled "The Fear of Empty Places". Part two is entitled 'Tisiphone : Avenging'. Part one was called 'Alecto : Unceasing', FYI, and part three will be 'Megaera : Grudging'. These are the names of the mythological Furies, who mentally tormented people for their crimes, for all you mythology lovers. Also this stays within the Chrono Cross spirit, the islands in the Sea of Eden were named after the three Fates, after all...

* * *

_Say something. Say anything... please, don't keep this religious silence, _her mind pleaded, looking to her much taller friends but quickly turning away to hide her misty eyes. The three Devas had found very little to say to one another, weighed down by the loss of a dear friend and the potential loss of their valiant leader, who now rested within the safety of Sir Radius's underground shelter. They'd found him soon after their more morbid discovery, and in his unconsciousness, truth after truth about the events atop the fort had spilled out.

They had lost their home, their beautiful Termina. Lost it to the hands of the Porre military, whose sneak invasion during the dead of night had occurred in their absence. Perfect timing on the part of Lynx, even the dragoons had to admit it, since most everyone was in the fort and not protecting the town. It was because of this that they were stuck at the hideaway, forced to hide themselves underground, not even able to give their comrade a proper burial at the location they wished. It was tough to decide, but with no other option besides burning or being cut adrift to sea, which none of them could bear the thought of, Glenn's gravesite was now located on the small island that was Radius's residence, marked with a stone carved by the hands of his friends. Most of the complaining had been done on the part of Karsh, who raged for at least an hour about the lack of honor and reverence that this entailed, but now his angered voice was silenced as the three of them tried to hold some kind of makeshift funeral under the sunny sky.

_Here Rests  
Acacia Knight Glenn  
Left the World - age 20_

_Weep not, fair ones  
He has gone beyond  
To see the truth_

It was one of those days that didn't look as if anything could go wrong or be wrong. The sky was streaked with thin, wispy clouds that threatened no rain, the sunlight glittering on the ocean and lighting up the air until every possible reflective surface sparkled. Seagulls and a multitude of forest birds wouldn't allow the air to remain silent, filling it with their calls and songs, the sea itself providing its own countermelody with the rhythmic waves crashing on the shore.

Marcy had always thought of herself as extremely mature beyond her age, but now she was rethinking her prideful boast while she fought the tears back. _Don't cry. Only stupid little babies cry. You're an Acacia Dragoon, Marcella, a big girl that doesn't need to act like a sissy._ Silently, she'd been rebuking herself for the things she wished she'd never said, things she wanted to take back.

_"I don't care about you, Glenn!"_

It wasn't true... at least she was nearly sure that Glenn knew it too. And if he didn't back at Mount Pyre, maybe he did now.

_This is all Lynx's fault. Stupid, ugly, overgrown stray cat! We should have totally never trusted him. He tried to kill the General. He murdered Glenn. He oversaw the conquest of Termina, and had been working alongside Porre the entire time. He stole Serge's body and only the Gods know what's happened to the real Serge._

The vocal silence between them broke with Marcy's whimper, her head lowering to hide her face.

"Marcy?" Karsh nearly whispered.

"I hate him," the little girl responded. She then broke into one of her old temper tantrums, clenching her fists and stomping the displaced earth with her feet. "I hate him! I hate Lynx! It's totally his fault, and I'm going to cut his neck open!"

_What a child you are, Marcella, _the inner voice scolded. _Look at you now... oh, what's this? Could it be that you're crying? _Now raging amidst her no-longer-hidden tears, Marcy gave a little fitful scream, falling to her knees and letting her fists pound the earth with abandon.

Sometimes, the other two Devas had a tendency to forget Marcy's age, due to her immense strength, but now was one of those rare times when everyone was reminded that she was, indeed, just a child. Zoah took a step forward, lifting the girl from the ground and tolerating the pounding she was giving his back as he proceeded to carry her back inside the shelter.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid Glenn!" she screamed on the way. "Why'd you have to go and be so... so brave... and stupid?"

Karsh started to follow, but paused to regard the gravestone for a last moment. "She's right, you know... tch. Serves me right for trying to encourage you to be more like your big bro. Ah well," he concluded, "rest well, Glenn."

* * *

It pained her to leave her beloved Viper Manor behind, with all its splendor, beauty, and a different fond memory of Dario connected to each of her little possessions. But the Lady of Viper Manor had no choice; she'd been made a prisoner in her own home already by the beastly Porre military, and she doubted that she would still be living if it weren't for her rescue at the hands of Karsh, the transformed Serge, and a violet-haired, quick-tongued teenager she had not before met. And, of course, the kind assistance of the 'Black Wind' commander himself, which had been quite unexpected.

She anticipated her reunion with the other Dragoons, hoping and praying during the entire boat ride to the Hideaway that the others had safely escaped as well. And most of all, she was anxious to see her father, whom Karsh had informed her was making a promising recovery from his injuries sustained at Fort Dragonia. She'd longed to ask him about the details of that night, but time wouldn't wait for them, and she had been hurried out of the manor to safety as quickly as possible while her rescuers distracted the soldiers.

The boat ground noisily against stone and sand as it hit the shore, coming to a halt sudden enough to jerk the bodies of both passengers forward moderately. The Porre commander in front of her stood, ran his fingers through his sun-colored hair, and turned to the woman. "This is the correct island, Miss Riddel?"

Riddel inspected the land before them. Peeking out from between the lush leaves of the shrubbery and trees was a definite shade of black, the charred wood of the visible parts of Radius's shelter. "Yes, it is," she replied at length.

Commander Norris stepped from the boat, frowning as a wave crashing ashore wet his boots. Riddel stifled a laugh; it was the kind of dismay she'd expect from Karsh, who never stopped complaining if his clothes got unnecessarily dirty. In more than one way, these two men were so similar, though they were from different sides of the battle... it was a wonder that they could argue, it was more like looking in a mirror and declaring your reflection your enemy. Riddel gently took Norris' extended hand as he aided her in exiting the boat, with a soft 'thanks' and a smile.

"You are sure you will be safe here, Miss?" the commander inquired, knotting his brows slightly in worry.

"Do not be troubled," Riddel chuckled. "I am perfectly safe here. The others here will be sure of that."

"Then I must be going." Norris jumped back into his boat, careful to go directly from the sand to the vessel itself, avoiding the water wearily.

"You have a kind heart, Commander," she replied. "And my eternal thanks." She was only regarded with one last glance, one last nod, before the boat was offshore and the sound of the motor faded into the distance.

Once the boat was out of sight, and Riddel had waved her last goodbye, the thin woman left the sand of the shore in favor of the soft green grass that surrounded the lush forestry of the hideaway. Passing the barrier of trees, she finally came into full view of the charred shelter. It was upsetting, for this quiet hut had also held many a fond memory... of the times she'd been allowed to go there, that is, meaning only when she bothered the boys enough that they let her come with them to watch them train. Not that she wouldn't prove herself useful. Despite the usual view toward well-off women and their ill housekeeping abilities, she was an excellent cook. Riddel didn't hold back her smile, remembering Karsh and Dario, most of the time with Glenn in tow, running boisterously into the hut at the very smell of food being prepared, eager looks on all their faces while they asked how much longer it would take until done. Even Radius would peek in occasionally to comment on the marvelous smell, and Glenn would try to sneak in and get his hands on whatever it was behind her back, yet never once did he get away with it.

A fleeting flash of white caught Riddel's eye, standing out amongst the greens and browns of most of her surrounding. She halted, turning her head slightly to check the source of the distraction, and narrowed her eyes in confusion. A long white ribbon was tied in a strong double-knot around a solitary tree branch, clinging on for dear life in the strong winds that threatened to blow it away, never to be seen again. The watcher carefully approached, extending her hand to perhaps take hold of one of the two long, waving strands. But it escaped her with a slight change in the breeze, only to return and grace across the back of her hand with a feather-like touch that was almost like a kiss of formality.

Meaning to untie the oddly-placed object, the woman took a cautious step forward, but nearly stumbled when her white shoe stepped on a rather large chunk of displaced earth. Looking down to inspect the ground, Riddel gathered her long skirts around her ankles, noting the scattered pieces of earth all around her feet, and a shovel leaned against the same tree to which were tied the long ribbons, as well as something that had quite evaded her notice before: a rather large gray stone. In the fading light of the evening, from her angle, only the evidence of engravings were noticeable.

Riddel stepped back, carefully bending down to inspect the stone...

..._so that's why that ribbon looks so familiar._

"Miss Riddel," a childish voice came from behind, "It's, like, good to see you're safe." The addressed gave a startle, looking back to see the youngest Deva watching her, concerned.

Marcy looked from the stone, to Riddel's teary eyes, and quickly turned her back. "Like, the General wants to talk to you, okay?"

"Marcy... what ha-"

The little girl shook her head. "Lynx." The older woman watched apprehensively as Marcy's fists clenched, her muscles tightening for a moment, then she almost went limp in her stand. "Just come in, Miss Riddel. It might, like, rain or something, and your father wants to see you."

Brushing herself off, the Lady of the manor complied, following the Deva as she nearly dragged her feet returning to the burned-out remains of the shelter. _If Marcy won't tell me, _she thought, _maybe daddy or Karsh will..._

_

* * *

_

_It's amazing that none of them suspect me. Between their tears as they show me the meager gravesite, I half-expect to see those glazed-over sets of eyes glare at me with deep-seeded hatred. Or maybe I'm just paranoid. But in any case, they can't know... at least not yet._

_It's one of those nights that I've opted to spend by myself, the only one I've had since I got back to the world in which my existence was ended ten years ago. And the blood of another loved one is on my hands now... Miguel. He forced us to fight him, forced us to kill him... and even though I'd accepted his offer to remain in the Dead Sea and become a timeless soul like he, Norris and Van refused for me. They brushed off my acceptance as the result of some kind of brainwashing trick that Miguel had seemingly played, and even if it was, it was a good one. But whatever the case was then, the reality now is that I can probably never go back to Leena. Her father is dead and it's on my hands. My furry, clawed, ugly hands._

_I lean back on these hideous hands to look at the white ribbon waving over my head like some kind of banner of surrender, and wonder why I returned to this world at all._

_Footsteps, light but not quick by any means, start to grow closer, and one of my feline ears gives a twitch. I assume it to be someone merely heading for the well or even to the beach, but much to my dismay, they stop right next to me. I don't look to see who it is, but they aren't quiet for long._

_"You look like you need a little company." Van. "Besides, I'm not tired, and it's not like I have anything better to do."_

_Of course. Can't expect you to be compassionate, now, can we?_

_There is a long silence before he speaks again._

_"You act like you were awfully attached to this guy."_

_I glare at the teen over the high collar of my black robes, but of course he isn't fazed. Just regards me with that same dull look he always gets when unimpressed. Sighing, he fumbles with the ridiculously large jade-colored bow on his waist. "Don't get so defensive," he replies to my expression. "I meant nothing by it, well... not until you got that look anyway. Now I wonder."_

_Snorting, I turn away._

_"And the others think I have an attitude problem," Van retorts, adjusting his violet hair. "Sheeze, you're touchy, Serge."_

_Just go away, I want to say. But I remain silent... as usual._

_"I mean, it's not like I would have a problem with it..."_

_There he goes, assuming again. Just because you're like that, Van, doesn't mean you can detect it in others. Just stay away, will you? I know what you used to do... to pay your rent, must be easy when a foreign military is running around your town all the time... and I don't know whether to pity you or feel disgust. _

_As he looks up at me, catching me prodding the flowers propped against the tombstone, I can tell..._

_He doesn't know whether to feel pity or disgust. _

_Damned perceptive kid. Van's the only one that has perhaps guessed the truth, simply by watching me when it is brought up, and I wouldn't put it past him to watch me sleep, but graciously, he keeps silent about it. For all his attitude, for all he's said and done, I've got to hand it to him... the kid is smart._

_"You want me to leave," Van concludes._

_There he goes again._

_"Fine." He stands, holding to his red-lined hat as he does, peering at me in a bored fashion over his glasses. "Just don't sit out here all night. If you don't get any sleep and try to fight, you're screwing us all over."_

_I return to watching the white ribbons blow in the wind._

_I surrender._


	3. Megaera : The Grudging

**The Rough Road to the Stars**

_by Capella A. Morningside_

**Summary: **Re-titled. Sequel to "Hinc Illae Lacrimae". Slight shounen-ai. After the tragic events at Fort Dragonia, there were those left behind, with no comfort but the chill of empty words and winds. This is their story. Complete.

**Author's Note: **Welcome to the third and final part of "The Rough Road to the Stars", 'Megaera'. This last bit intends to tie up all the loose ends and finally, give everyone a bit of closure. And for me, this shall be quite fun, working with some little-used characters and different themes and ideas.

* * *

_Sunlight danced across the wooden floors and tables, pouring in through the faded linen curtains, occasionally blinding the teenage girl when the light's reflection gleamed on the silver pot hanging over the fireplace. Impatiently, she tapped the wooden spoon against her open palm, leaning forward a bit to check on the pot's boiling contents. Taking in a deep breath, she inhaled the scent, a pleased look befalling her lovely features. _

_"Almost done," she mused to herself. "And I should hope so. Those boys will be in any minute... they are sure to be famished."_

_Riddel paused, her cheer faltering for only a moment as a mysterious metallic rattling sound sounded out from behind her, near the tray of cookies she'd smuggled in. Peering over her shoulder, the girl then tried not to laugh as a little head ducked beneath the crate just a second too late to escape her notice. Smiling, she then turned back to the pot, saying in an all-too-loud voice: "Silly me. It must have been the wind."_

_Her suppression became more difficult when the crate then gave a little mischievous snicker. Pretending to be occupied with the pot, Riddel bided her time, waiting until the potential cookie thief had decided the coast was clear. A few seconds later, and the tell-tale tapping of fingertips against the metal tray was all it took._

_"I caught you!" she called out abruptly, spinning around. There was a yelp in response, the skinny blonde boy falling to the floor in surprise, just missing the claiming of his prize._

_"Come on, Miss Riddel..." Glenn pleaded. "Just one?"_

_Resolve in her voice, she responded with a firm:"Absolutely not."_

_The boy frowned, giving her his most piteous eyes._

_"No," Riddel repeated. Then, "What are you doing in here, Glenn? You should be outside training. You want to be big and strong, do you not?"_

_A nod, but Glenn then lowered his head shamefully. "Big brother and Karsh won't let me spar with them. They say I'm a weakling..."_

_"Well, that is terribly rude of them," the girl responded, flipping her deep blue hair over one shoulder. "I am sorry to hear they are being so mean today."_

_The younger approached Riddel carefully, looking beyond her at the contents of the pot. "Can you tell them to stop?"_

_She shook her head, chuckling. "They will not listen to me, in this matter. I am sorry, Glenn."_

_A disappointed sound from the youth, leaning against the nearby table and looking over its contents with disinterest. "Well, then, can I stay here and help you, Miss Riddel?"_

_"Trust a little thief to help me cook? I most certainly think not!"_

_Glenn sniffled, pouting as convincingly as he could._

_She sighed. "But, I will help you with the boys." Setting the wooden spoon carefully aside, the teenager strolled past Glenn, towards the metal tray containing the sweets. "These were meant to be a surprise for all of you, but since Dario and Karsh are not being nice, they do not deserve any."_

_The blonde's eyes brightened immediately. "Then may I have one? Pretty please?"_

_"Normally, since you tried to steal one, I would say no. But in this case..." Riddel spun around, a smile on her face and a stack of three cookies in her hand. "Of course." Glenn gave a little cry of victory, running to claim his prize with all the speed he could. _

_Unable to stifle it, Riddel covered her mouth with her hand as she giggled at the sight. "Now Glenn, make sure the other boys know that I said they cannot have any, for being mean to you, okay?"_

_"Th-thanks!" Glenn stuttered, holding the cookies as if they were the only food he'd had for years. Within seconds, however, he was gone, and the inquiries of the older boys could soon be heard from outside as to where their younger companion obtained those delicious-looking treats..._

_

* * *

_

"Miss Riddel, you alright?"

The woman was snapped back into the present by the gruff voice of Karsh, as he stood over her, concerned. "I am sorry, Karsh. I was just..." Riddel trailed off.

"Ah, ya ain't gotta explain yerself to me. We're all just havin' hard times, is all." He extended a hand, helping her up from the edge of the bed she sat on, and glanced over at the sleeping General. "On the bright side, I think your dad's doin' a lot better."

"I believe so." A sigh, along with a heavy-hearted sound. "I was just thinking about happier times. Lost in memories of days gone by."

"I've been doin' a lot of that myself, lately."

Riddel lowered her head, holding her forehead with her hand. "Why did you not tell me, Karsh?"

The dragoon didn't respond.

"When I asked you if everyone was alright... if all our friends were safe... you would not answer. You let me find out on my own. Just like..."

"When Dario died." Karsh finished for her, shamefully. Unable to face her questioning eyes, the taller man turned away from the object of his admiration, crossing his arms, crimson eyes glaring at the floor in self-disgust.

"Do you think I am not able to handle such news?" came Riddel's accusing inquiry. The man's muscles tensed, almost in a cringing motion, and immediately the Lady of the Manor was struck with guilt. "I am truly sorry. I did not mean to take such a tone with you."

"And I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just don't like seein' you all upset, Miss Riddel," he softly replied, still not facing the woman.

"And I do not wish to see anyone upset," she said. Silence reigned a few moments, until Riddel asked: "What happened to him, Karsh?"

"Lynx," was the only answer.

"No." Riddel shook her head. "Please. You know what I am asking. Tell me... tell me how Glenn died. I want to know."

"It's unfittin' to tell something like that to a lady," Karsh protested, nodding negatively, but nearly freezing in place as he felt Riddel's warm hand on his shoulder.

"As unfitting as it may be, I want to know."

"Miss Riddel, I can't-"

Her hand tensed. "Please. You do not wish to reveal to me how Dario died, and I have respected that all this time. But do not keep me in the dark about Glenn. I want to know if he died doing something he believed in, if he fought valiantly, if he suffered..."

Noting the choking tone of the lady's last few words, Karsh glanced over his shoulder, only to see the woman's eyes misted over with tears. "A-alright," he conceded. "I don't know much detail, but I'll tell you what I do..."

* * *

_Just when you get used to something, things change on you all over again. I was getting used to the bulky form, the instinct to scratch on things near me when I got bored, and the cravings for seafood... when I was re-born, thrown back into the body intended for me from birth. I can speak again, I have my own name back as well... but I wonder somehow if this is what I want._

_I have the identity of a cowardly murdering fairy-boy once again._

_A week before I got this body back, a discovery I made in my quest for solitude in my home dimension one day led to more drama than I could have imagined. I had only been wandering a small forested island just offshore of the central island when a figure out of a painting I'd seen only once came to life before my eyes. Tall, built, sun-colored hair and sad blue eyes, everything his younger sibling wished he could have been. Dario._

_It must have been a surprise when I came back to the other world and the S.S. Invincible and spent a good ten minutes trying to squeeze the words of my discovery out of my feline throat. Everyone present gathered around the spectacle of me attempting to speak like it was the event of a lifetime; Van was even laughing, until, that is, Norris scared him off. I still recall their looks of shock when it hit them what I was trying to say; that their beloved Dario was still alive in the other dimension._

_Riddel, Karsh, and later, Radius, practically demanded I take them to see him, and I simply complied as is my way. Being unsure of what was exactly going on, not sharing this past they all did, I held back from their conversation. It seemed Dario couldn't remember them, and when Riddel tried to make him recall through showing him some kind of necklace, he pretty much lost it. The Masamune came to him, and I had barely picked up my swallow when he charged us._

_No one got out without an array of scrapes, cuts, bruises, and a few more serious injuries, and the battle itself went so terribly I was sure at one point we were all thoroughly done for. As much as my bitterness for the others had faded, I didn't want to take them down with me if I were to die there. I would have deserved it, and what better person to carry out the avenging than Glenn's older brother?_

_After he got his memories back and the insanity out of him, this big, tough warrior started... building an orphanage. Alright, not what I expected, but it was after all his fiancée's idea._

_It became my job for a couple of days to be a dimensional ferryman, taking a set of a few people at a time to see Dario for one reason or another. The most significant of these was the last. Karsh approached me on the S.S. Invincible with that serious look he rarely gets, asking me to take him to the other dimension for a visit, claiming he had something to give Dario, and mumbled something about a dragoon tradition that had to be carried out. Since Van wanted to visit his home back in Termina, I shrugged and nodded, and within an hour we were underway._

_"Dario, ya know how all the dragoons are alive in that other world?" Karsh looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight as he stood before his long-time friend, and I knew exactly what was coming._

_"Yes?" Dario prompted the other to go on, glancing off to one side to check the progress of two large men hanging a sign._

_"Well, all except one."_

_The blonde was suddenly interested, but silent, those all-too-familiar eyes looking between me and his fellow Deva. Karsh took a deep breath, seeming to compose himself, and fell roughly to both knees in front of Dario. Reaching over his own shoulder, into the large traveling bag, he carefully pulled out the shining mythril sword, much to the surprise of myself and apparently of Dario, who almost cringed as it was held up to him. He hesitantly accepted it, inspecting the somewhat worn, sentimentally valued sheath._

_"My brother is dead," he said, stoic. "In my world, and in yours."_

_Karsh only nodded as he staggered back to a stand._

_Still handling the sword as if it were forged from glass, the blonde turned away from us, cradling it nearly in his arms with a deep sigh. "I must get back to work. It was good to see you again, Karsh, Serge."_

_Silently, I wondered how much longer I could lie._

_

* * *

_

Taking a heavy gulp from the crudely made jug of water, the man's aging, weary eyes scanned over the pages of a book; the only thing he could find to pass the time aboard the pirate ship. It wasn't exactly interesting to him, all it spoke of were the myths and lores surrounding various creatures of the sea, real or imaginary, yet for the location he found it, it was to be expected. It made him miss his library back at the exquisite manor, and vaguely he wondered if the Porre soldiers had left the place in good shape thus far.

The General was alone today, and this was quite a rarity nowadays; his Devas had been especially close as of late, usually one or sometimes two of them would linger nearby, glancing over his shoulder occasionally, watching him with their bewildered glances from across the room. Since Termina had been lost, they were just wandering spirits now, magnetically orbiting around their leader and patiently waiting for him to give them some order, some purpose. Loss was their constant companion now, and though Viper hoped with all his being that this would soon change, the future would not come easy.

At times, he chose to blame himself entirely for most of these grave happenings, since he was the one that chose to place so much on the line for what Lynx was saying. Even after the man had almost gotten his daughter killed, he forced himself to retain that trust, thinking it was all for the sake of his city and his dragoons. In the end, he and his daughter had narrowly escaped death, his dragoons were in danger, and one of them was gone forever. Unforgivable miscalculation, but his loyal officers refused to find him at fault, pinning the entire blame on Lynx. Hearing someone timidly requesting entrance to the cabin, Viper set his dull book aside. "Come in."

"G-General?"

A welcome change, it was not one of his desperately bored dragoons. The General was somewhat relieved as Serge, the unspoken leader of the large group, meekly stepped in.

"Ah, Serge. How are you today, young man? What can I do for you?"

The teenager shut the door behind him, as quietly as if he were afraid of waking someone, and strolled over to seat himself on the bed across from where the older man sat. "Oh, well... nothing, really. Just looking for someone to talk to, I guess."

"Well, you've come to the right place." The General rubbed his hands together vigorously. "I've got no pressing matters at the moment. Say whatever you wish."

"There's-s... something on my mind," Serge began, stumbling over his words, his eyes watching the floor. "I've been wanting to say it for a long time, but..."

"But? What hinders you?"

A sigh. "The others will hate me when they know."

The older gentleman knotted his brows in concern. "My boy, if you're keeping such a pressing secret from your comrades, it will only get worse, the longer you wait. In addition, it may start to affect your performance in battle."

"I know, I know." Serge groaned. "And that's why I'm saying something now."

"Well... go ahead."

There was silence for several moments. "It's about what happened at Fort Dragonia."

Viper didn't respond, merely sitting, patient, on the bed.

"I... I-I..." the younger man stuttered, before blurting out the words: "I killed Glenn."

The air in the room went still, the creaking of the wooden ship were the only audible sound. The General drew his lips tightly together, contemplating a response to such a confession, but the only thing he could think of was; "Why?"

"It was an accident. He... he thought I was Lynx. He was attacking me, I was trying to block , and the scythe, I didn't know how to use it..."

Serge's desperate spill of words was cut off at the sensation of a powerful, yet gentle hand on his shoulder. "Then it is not your fault. It is no one's fault..."

"You must understand," the boy felt himself saying. "I never would have intentionally done it! I would have rather died than hurt him! I-" Immediately his hands flew to his mouth, covering any more words he could have said as he felt the tears rising.

"I see. Then you... ah..." Out of mercy, the General left the statement unfinished, slowly removing his hand from the upset teenager's shoulder. "Do you plan to tell the others?"

Serge shook his head in dissent. "I can't."

"Then, would you like me to inform them?"

"It would be better that way." A nod.

A third voice rang out, startling both. "Why's that? Because you're afraid?"

The teen meekly stood, feeling crushed under the immense weight of the piercing glare given by a set of angered crimson eyes. The owner of the stare was blocking his only escape, fists clenched and more than ready to start a fight.

With trembling lips, Serge formed the words, "K-Karsh. Please, let me-"

"Let ya what?" the Deva interrupted. "Let ya go? Let ya explain? I think I've heard enough already." A pause. "Outside."

"I won't fight you," the younger softly responded.

The General's voice was gentle, but authoritative, as he stood, taking cautious steps toward his officer. "Karsh, stop this nonsense at once. Do not exhaust your rage on this boy. He is not to blame."

"With all due respect sir, ya heard him confess!"

"And I also heard his heartfelt explanation that it was all an accident."

A shudder ran through the lavender-haired man's body. "Awfully heartfelt, indeed..."

Serge lowered his head shamefully.

"I will have none of that!" Viper boomed, in a voice loud enough to set even Karsh cringing. "That is none of your business in the first place. I suggest you leave, Karsh, until you can speak to Serge in a civilized manner." Not one to question the orders of his leader, the axeman gave a stiff half-bow, a glare to the youth that told Serge that their conflict was far from over, and left at a brisk pace.

"I apologize on his behalf," the older man said, turning to the still-shivering Serge. "But I would like to warn you... it is best if you do not linger on this ship for the next few days. There will be some negative sentiments against you for a while. Find somewhere to rest, you must be fully prepared to face the Sea of Eden soon in any case."

* * *

"I should do a painting of this place, you know?"

Van's voice snapped Serge out of his trance, his grip on the bellflowers held tightly in his palm growing taut for a moment. The artist was seated casually on a rock nearby, eyes scanning over the gravesite and its surroundings as if trying to memorize them. Pushing up his glasses, he glanced over at the older boy momentarily. "Go on. Do whatever it is you were going to do."

Carefully, the teenager knelt on the dry earth, laying the blue flowers delicately at the base of the tombstone, taking a moment to arrange them so they looked as perfect as he could muster. Pulling off one glove with his teeth, Serge then let his bare fingers trace over the inscribed words in contemplation.

"I'm... sorry," he whispered.

Van cleared his throat, prompting, and with a sigh the other gave in.

"I don't know if it would have disgusted you, but... I really l-liked you. I'm sure you already know by now. But, I kinda wish I'd gotten to tell you in life."

"So sorry," came a soft, feminine voice behind him. "I am interrupting. I will come back later..."

"Riddel?" Serge questioned, not rising from his place but looking over his shoulder. "How did you get here?"

"Pip and I borrowed a boat from the ship when no one was looking. He's asleep at the moment." The woman forced a smile.

"They're going to be frantic when they realize you went off by yourself," Van reasoned, digging in his brown side-bag for something.

"I will only be missing for a short time, and besides, Pip is with me. I am sure it is safe enough."

The painter muttered something incomprehensible, most likely sarcastic.

"I came to visit, but I am glad I have found you, Serge," Riddel went on. "I wanted to apologize."

"For what?" came the hollow inquiry.

"The way Karsh behaved was uncalled for, and I am sorry he treated you in such a manner. Daddy told me everything this morning." Her slender hand came to a rest on his shoulder, rubbing gently. "I do not blame you at all."

"It's nice to know someone doesn't."

The Lady sighed. "Just give it time. They will come to reason, eventually. Many of us were very close to Glenn, you understand, that is why we are very affected by this news."

"I know," Serge nodded. "I know. I... was too."

"I know how it feels... to lose someone you felt so strongly about." A surprised look from the teenager. "Do not be startled. Daddy told me everything. I do not share Karsh's outlook on that situation, and I am sure that in time he will accept it too. I just would like you to know, Serge... that you can speak with me anytime if you need to talk."

"Thank you."

_I have regained my strength. I will fight, knowing that if I live, I will remember you forever, and if I die, I will see you again. Either way, I am content._

_Bonds have been broken. Trust has been betrayed. When it all comes down to it, this has served as a harsh reminder to every single one of us that we are not immortal, death may come seeking us at any time, Atropos may close the golden scissors around our life-threads at any point she chooses... thus we are forced to play Fate's sick game, used as puppets by whatever higher being is watching our every move._

_Thus Fate and Chaos intertwine and form something we all know as the uncertain future. Yet I will face it as boldly as a knight, charging on into the darkness with out hindrance or fear, knowing that a simple change in destiny's plan can either let me emerge victorious or let Death's cold hands tear my spirit out of my body before the end of the battle has come._

_Either way, we shall fight on._


End file.
